Losses
by Brie Cheese Eater-old account
Summary: This was for Flourish's January Fanfic Challenge. It's not terrific, but it'll do for now. :)


Title: Losses Author: Clare / Brie Cheese Eater 

Note: I am not J.K. Rowling, nor have I ever been, nor will I ever be. (I'm quite sure of that.) These are her characters. I'm just borrowing them for a bit. Don't sue, please. Also, if a few things sound a little weird in this story, it's because I had to fit lasagna, Fawkes, a scar other than Harry's, and a Quidditch game in here. And a major part had to be the loss of either Harry's, Ron's, or Hermione's powers. So don't kill me if it's not a good story! It's just for Flourish's January Fanfic challenge. Not my best work, definitely. I didn't work very hard on it... 

--- 

I am never wrong about things I say. 

Sometimes, I wish I was wrong sometimes. You see, there was this girl. I sat atop her head on the first day of Hogwarts. (Don't worry, I sit on a lot of people's heads. It doesn't hurt.) 

"Certainly has the brains," I muttered, talking to myself, but the girl heard everything. "Works hard. Could do in Ravenclaw ... but let's see here! Bravery, is it? Yes, it is ... but uncovered as of yet. But a problem ..." 

"What problem?" thought the girl nervously. 

"The problem is, your magic powers ... very unusual. It seems that you were born with an large amount of power, and somehow, it is gradually ebbing away. Well, don't worry. If you keep on working hard throughout your years at Hogwarts, perhaps later on in life you won't need a lot of magic to do spells ... anyway, no time left. GRYFFINDOR!" 

Well, everything I said was true. The problem was, Hermione Granger's magic ran out much faster than I had expected it to. And then she stopped working hard. 

Just when she needed magic most. 

It was the last Quidditch game of the year. Gryffindor versus Slytherin, I believe. I had never seen a Quidditch game before, and I was curious to see what all the fuss was about. I begged Professor Dumbledore to let me come to the game. 

"But I thought you couldn't see," he said, smiling slightly. I couldn't see the smile but since I was sitting on his head, I could feel what he was thinking and I knew he was smiling. 

"If you put me on when you go to the game, I can see what you see," I replied stubbornly. 

"You'll cover my eyes if I put you on." 

"Well ... then put me on the back of your head!" 

I knew Dumbledore was thinking: I'll look like a fool, wearing a patched, dirty old hat. But I also knew he felt like there was no harm in letting me see my first Quidditch game. After all, I've been around for hundreds of years, and to deprive me of such a delight (as others seem to think it is) is quite murderous to a poor old soul like me. 

Fawkes sang a song of approval. I knew I would be able to come now. 

The day was fair, perfect weather for a Quidditch game. Dumbledore took a seat next to Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, who had come to watch their best friend Harry Potter play as Seeker in the game. Dumbledore started to eat his snack, lasagna. 

"You should really save that for your next meal," I told him. 

"I know," he thought. "But I'm hungry, and nothing makes me happier than eating Italian food. Oh dear. Draco Malfoy looks murderous. Well, to be expected whenever he plays against Gryffindor." 

I heard what Dumbledore heard and I saw what Dumbledore saw. And Dumbledore saw something on the ground. 

Something moving. But what was it? 

Dumbledore's eyes were not in good enough shape to see what the moving object was. Fortunately, Hermione's vision was able to handle an object from that distance. 

Unfortunately, she didn't tell Dumbledore what she saw. 

"Let's go," she whispered to Ron. 

"Huh?" was his bewildered answer. 

"Quick!" Hermione hissed. She grabbed him by the arm and ran down the bleachers, then out onto the pitch. 

I saw them run across the field to where the object was. People were muttering, "Don't know what they're doing," but nobody paid much attention; they were too engrossed in the game to care. 

But Dumbledore wasn't. Neither was I. 

The two fourth-years bent down to the ground and grabbed the object. And then ... all of a sudden, they fell back. In place of the object was a horrible, horrible figure. 

"STOP THE GAME!" Dumbledore shouted, and people turned to look at him. He grabbed his wand from his pocket and kicked his way down to the field, I coming with him. 

Harry swooped downwards to see what was going on, then suddenly stopped in midair. 

"What's going on?" demanded Fred, holding his club over his shoulder as if ready to hit someone. 

The figure looked up from his work and saw Dumbledore. He muttered something and aimed his wand. 

"Trying to petrify me?" I heard Dumbledore think. "How nice. Well, try this." A few whispered words and Pettigrew-Voldemort was blasted off his feet. Dumbledore was about to cast another spell but before he could, Pettigrew-Voldemort got up to his feet, furious, and disapparated. 

By now the Quidditch game had been abandoned and students were flooding the pitch, trying to see what was the matter. Gasps and shrieks filled the air. 

"He'll be coming back soon," Dumbledore murmured to a stricken Harry Potter, who had just flown to the ground. "I'm sorry about your friends Hermione and Ron, Harry. Noble cause ... must see the Ministry. They should receive something for their efforts. Order of Merlin, First Class, like Pettigrew before ..." By this time Harry was making strange noises in his throat. He looked again at the two bodies lying on the ground, just where Pettigrew-Voldemort had been. Two tears started to trickle down his face. 

Dumbledore stooped down. Hermione's and Ron's foreheads had been marked. A star on Hermione, a squiggle somewhat like a question mark on Ron. 

"Stielifus Charm," he thought. "Hermione could have blocked this." 

"No she couldn't," I corrected him. "She lost her magic. I told her, when she was first sorted, that she would lose her powers sometime ... but she must have forgotten." 

Fawkes appeared suddenly. He came to rest on Dumbledore's shoulder, as if trying to comfort him. 

And from what I could see in Dumbledore's mind, he needed comforting. 


End file.
